


To the Fairest

by Esmara



Category: Labyrinth (1986), Mirror Mirror (2012)
Genre: Adventure, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Fairytale tropes galore, Listen I have no explanation as to how I thought of this but it's here now, Look I love the aesthetic of both films and I will not be stopped from indulging, Romance, and both heroines have big poofy white dresses so it's a win win
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esmara/pseuds/Esmara
Summary: The kingdom has known music, laughter and prosperity for centuries, and a tentative peace with the Fair Folk on and off throughout - at least according to fairytale. Respecting the rules and customs of the fae is key to the balance, and of course the Queen throws that respect right out the window. On Snow White's 18th birthday, her stepmother crosses a line too far, and Snow discovers that the stories that comforted her childhood are far more real -and harrowing - than she has ever dreamt.
Relationships: Snow White/Jareth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	To the Fairest

_Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a kingdom that was surrounded by a great wood. Within the wood there was said to be a number of portals and doors, and through them the Fae would slip into the human world._

_The Fair Folk and humans lived side by side in relative peace; travelers would leave a coin or food or fresh flowers at the start of their journey through the wood as payment for safe travels, and sometimes the Fae would appear in the village as wanderers, and sold and traded their own treasures at the market. The two peoples lived in such a way for generations, the peace maintained so long as the village was healthy and the royal family welcoming to any who entered their doors. After all, one could never know when a stranger was Fair; and it was rude to turn a stranger out either way._

_There was only one other rule that most followed, and were taught as children; you had to be very careful when making a wish. Though the two kingdoms respected each others' rules, they still had their own, and if a human were to make a wish to the Goblin King-_

An angry ruffling of feathers and flapping wings cut her off, and Snow White dropped the book from her lap to the ground. She looked to the miscreant in annoyance, and was met with large eyes staring back at her from the windowsill.

"It's not very polite to interrupt, you know," she gently chided, and the owl cooed in response. She sighed and lifted the book back up, placing the bookmark between the pages as she closed it. She paused for a moment to admire the cover; old, faded, well-loved. It was a story her father had read to her as a child, one that she read again and again while tucked away in her room. She rather wished for more stories like this one, about a young woman rescuing her brother from a strange world, but this one still had yet to grow dull. She traced a finger over the title, the once-gold lettering long faded.

Snow set the book down beside her bed and walked to the window, where the owl stood patiently. It was a lovely bird, perfect feathers and a proud face, almost more deserving of her name than she was. She reached forward to brush the back of her finger against its beak, and it trilled while nuzzling into her touch. Snow smiled; though she liked reading in peace, the owl was quite disarming and sweet, and she found she couldn't stay mad at it.

How long had this owl been visiting her? Six months, a year? Since last winter, at least; though calling it winter was more of a formality at this point, as the snow had not ceased for years. She had watched it fall from the day of her father's disappearance, always from this window, always alone.

Perhaps not this year, though.

"Thank you for joining me," she said gently, her finger moving to the side of the bird's face. The owl leaned to the side, almost like a cat, its eyes closing in contentment. "Today's the day," she said, quieter, and the owl opened its eyes. She nodded. "I'm going to see if I can join in." Another coo, quieter.

She knew it was an ordinary owl, but it was a responsive owl, and she liked being able to at least pretend she was having a conversation. It was a welcome reprieve from the loneliness of her room, and the owl never quipped or tutted or shooed her away. She had been talking to it for the last few months, telling it all about her plans, her first plan in a long time.

There was a triumphant sound of horns; both Snow White and the owl turned to face the door as they played.

"It _is_ my birthday," she said softly, more to herself than the owl. She looked at the bird. "It can't hurt to try, can it?" Another coo, deep and curious, and she smiled. "Do you think I should do it?" The owl ruffled its feathers, which she took (because she wanted to, if she was honest) as a yes. Snow White nodded and straightened up.

"Alright, I'm going now," she said, "I'm going to the party." She gripped her skirt in her shaking hands. "I'm going down there. Now."

The bird looked at her, almost expectantly, and she nodded again. Snow White turned, hesitated, and walked through her bedroom door. It shut between her and the owl with a loud and heavy thud.

* * *

Brighton wasn't always a nervous man; once upon a time, he'd been quite confident and a proud confidant to the throne. That was before the queen took it.

There was a party today; a rather grand live chess match, with absurd battleship helmets and coordinated costumes. The Baron was quite soundly beating the Queen, or so it would have looked to anybody but Brighton, who wasn't sure the Queen wasn't cheating. That, however, was the least of his concerns.

He knew what today was; it seemed the rest of the castle did, as well. There was a deep, silent tension that threatened to strangle him as he went about; servants and nobles alike were eying the front door of the palace, shut tight, and looking at each other while daring the other to say something to the queen. Nobody had thus far; it seemed they all valued their standing within the palace, or perhaps they just wanted to remain standing, period. Whatever the case, everyone knew what was supposed to happen and nobody had the guts to tell the queen.

Which meant that it was his job, god help him.

He stood beside Queen Clementianna as she called her move; he tried to organize his thoughts. It was late in the day, but they had until midnight. There was hardly a ceremony, surely she could spare five minutes before midnight? Beside him, the Baron watched the game in amusement. Even he had a crease in his brow, however, and Brighton knew the date was on his mind as well. Of course, he wasn't going to bring it up, not when the queen was in such a good mood.

Nobody brought Snow White up when the Queen was in a good mood. Of course, nobody dared to even think of her during a bad one.

It was only six o'clock. There was still hope, right?

"Brighton." He was yanked out of his thoughts by the queen's voice, and he looked at her with wide eyes for a moment. "Would you please tell Snow White that she can stop hiding behind the pillar, since she's not very good at it?"

The room froze. Everyone stopped and looked at the pillar in question; after a moment of unbearable stillness, Snow White stepped out from behind it, gripping the skirt of her dress and clenching her jaw in an attempt not to look frightened. The queen patted her knee, and the princess approached slowly, head down, and knelt beside the queen.

"Snow White," she said, smiling down at her stepdaughter in such a way that Brighton feared for the girl's life, "what are you doing out of your room?"

"I thought," she started, and swallowed, "that I might watch a bit of the party, your majesty." The Queen tilted Snow White's chin up. "Just to see how it ended."

"I see." Unimpressed, but not angry yet. or so he hoped. "And what made you think you could do that?"

"I..." she took a breath, steeling herself, and Brighton admired her bravery, "well, I wanted to celebrate a bit, as it is my 18th birthday."

The air tightened, as everyone at once seemed to draw in a breath and hold it. The Queen, who Brighton assumed had been about to make some witty and cruel retort, stopped and looked at her court. Everyone was eying her, and now she _was_ in a foul mood. "What's this," she asked, "is everyone suddenly afraid of birthdays?"

"It's not that, your majesty," Brighton was almost relieved that he could just _say_ it and get it over with; the bandaid had been torn off. "There is a tradition that the royal family is supposed to follow on an 18th birthday, and I think everyone would be at ease if we did it sooner, rather than later." She scoffed, but at least she was listening.

"If we do whatever it is," she looked at Snow White, "will everyone please stop holding their breath?" the court collectively nodded, and Brighton wanted to weep with relief. "Alright, Brighton, what do we do?"

"We need to open the doors," he said, "and debut the princess to the Fair Folk."

* * *

There was a pause. For a heavy and silent second, the queen did not react. She didn't even blink.

Then she laughed, and Snow released the breath she'd held. She was entertained, she sounded almost _delighted,_ and the relief around Snow White was almost palpable.

"What on Earth does that mean?" The queen asked, still laughing, and Snow White realized the laugh had been a false alarm. There was a reason she did not speak with her stepmother often; she wanted to love the woman like a mother, but it was like trying to love a storm, or perhaps a lion. She was never certain if she was wholly safe.

"Well," Brighton stammered, "it is… an old fairy-story, your majesty, but an important one to the people. The way it works is we open the front doors and have Snow White stand right in front of the throne." The queen frowned, and Brighton spoke with hurry. "You announce her name – the line never changes – and we wait five seconds, then we close the doors and go about our business. It's a show of politeness to the… to the Fair Folk."

"How quaint," the queen said, a little bored. It was common knowledge she did not believe in the Fae that the people of the kingdom held as respected neighbors, but she seemed to tolerate the kingdom's superstition anyway. Snow White was unsure if she believed it herself, but she wanted to; she had wished herself away to her father's side, once, but it had done precious little, possibly because she had been alone or hadn't used the right words. But that had been long ago.

The Queen looked to Snow White. "If we do this presentation, will you go back to your bedroom? You suit it much better than the ballroom." She smiled and gave a small chuckle, as if she'd told an absolutely delightful joke.

"If it's tradition," Snow White said, nodding slowly, "then yes, I will." It was embarrassing that the thought excited her; she'd barely heard of the ceremony before now, but there were people, and she understood at least a little _why_ they needed to. It was for the Fair Folk; a royal courtesy, like many she'd heard of as a child when her father told her stories. The thought of being part of one, even for a moment, was more a birthday gift than she'd hoped to think of.

"Stand up, then, let's get this over with. I don't want to get grief over not dealing with a quirk from a fairytale." The queen rose and gestured to the door. "Open them!"

The guards opened the doors, and cold air spilled into the room with glimmering snowflakes. The entryway was empty, but for a small collection of birds on the fountain; Snow White smiled upon realizing that she saw her owl among them. The snow framed them in a way that looked almost like they were shimmering.

"Give me the line, Brighton," the queen said impatiently. Brighton cleared his throat.

"To the people of the forest, I present," he started, "and here you say their title and name. On this day, they come of age, and shall be part of our two kingdoms forevermore."

"How droll," the queen groaned. "To the people of the forest, I present the daughter of the king, Snow White. On this day she comes of age, and shall be part of blah blah yadda yadda, whatever." Snow White noted the gentry members looking at the queen in shock, but did not speak. This was already more than she could have asked for.

Something had overtaken her; her heart was thundering in her chest. The birds looked at her in interest, and she looked at them; she felt, for a moment, an overwhelming urge to run forward, to invite them in. She felt like they _needed_ to be inside, that she needed to know their names.

Brighton cleared his throat, and it startled her enough that the birds became just birds to her again. Something about that made her ache.

Clementia waved her hand again. "Taken care of. Close them." She turned to Snow White. "I think that's enough excitement for one day, don't you? Back to your room."

"Yes, your majesty," Snow White said, and disappeared from the ballroom as the rest of the revelers looked at each other in silence.


End file.
